


Planes, Trains and Absolute Assholes

by ElapsedSpiral



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Bromance, Gavin's abused nutsack, Gen, Humor, Michael's abused vocal cords, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElapsedSpiral/pseuds/ElapsedSpiral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're stood there on the porch and Gavin's in a t-shirt turned inside out “for freshness”, hunched over punched testicles and Michael's still got his black eye and one shoe missing. Geoff just takes in the sight with the raised eyebrows of a man looking at a pizza guy who's brought Hawaiian instead of Farmhouse.</p><p>“So,” Geoff starts diplomatically, “I hear the traffic was bad.”</p><p>A multi-chapter AU of how Gavin and Michael came to work for RT lovingly ripped off of "Planes, Trains and Automobiles".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Planes, Trains and Absolute Assholes

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I've been debating writing this. I'm a little iffy about the whole “they're real people” business but the way I reconcile it is this: I'm just borrowing the personas they use in their Let's Plays. This is not intended to actually reflect who the guys really are. I'm in it for the banter and the bromance. So if by some chance anyone connected with the guys reads this: I mean well and had a lot of fun writing this because these two remind me of me and my best friend so much. 
> 
> So, here we go. Enjoy! Apologies for how contrived the plot is but that's not really the point of this thing. If you've seen Planes, Trains and Automobiles, you're going to find this pretty familiar. And if you've not, go and watch it, it's a great movie. 
> 
> Warnings: Language (no shit) and sexual language. Also, this is an AU so the “facts” aren't accurate, e.g. some people don't yet work at Roosterteeth, the order in which people joined is different, the number of times Gavin's taken a whack to the balls may be higher etc etc.

**  
Planes, Trains and Absolute Assholes **

**Wednesday**

 

They're stood there on the porch and Gavin's in a t-shirt turned inside out “for freshness”, hunched over punched testicles and Michael's still got his black eye and one shoe missing. Geoff just takes in the sight with the raised eyebrows of a man looking at a pizza guy who's brought Hawaiian instead of Farmhouse.

 

“So,” Geoff starts diplomatically, “I hear the traffic was bad.”

 

**Monday**

 

“They're planning on harvesting your organs.”

 

“Lindsay,” Michael hefts his backpack over his shoulder again and clambers into the tin can that is the NJ Transit from Hoboken, “They're not gonna harvest my organs.”

 

“But say they do.”

 

“Then I'll give 'em a kidney, I've got a spare!” the man grouses, “Okay, so the whole we'll-arrange-your-travel part of this interview stroke audition thing is-”

 

“Super weird? Like completely weird in every way.”

 

“Lindsay, it's Roosterteeth. They say “jump”, I say “how high?”. They say “blow”, I don't say a goddamn thing because I'm working that shaft like I just got off the bus in Hollywood and someone told me I could be a big movie star.”

 

Which earns him a few looks from his fellow passengers but whatever, it's a figure of speech.

 

“You know this job interview isn't for a porno, right?”

 

“It's a figure of speech,” Michael insists, “Look, the whole itinerary bullshit isn't that crazy. It probably just worked out cheaper. It's just a couple trains to Newark, flight to Houston, rent-a-car to Austin, bam, shout my ass off at some indie game shit and maybe get my dream job at the end of it.”

 

“Working that shaft.”

 

“Absolutely,” Michael sobers and shrugs to no-one, “I've gotta give it a shot, right?”

 

There's a silence while Lindsay considers but at length she sighs and he can almost hear the reply shrug on the other end of the line.

 

“Right. Good luck asshole. Bust a vocal cord.”

 

“Thanks, later.”

 

He's no sooner pocketed his phone when it's happening. At first, events unfurl so quickly that that's really all he can comprehend: that they are, in fact, happening and here he is, Michael Vincent Jones, getting them all happening at him.

 

Later, for obvious reasons, he decides to consider events in slow motion and manages to work them out as follows:

 

There's a squawk somewhere along the platform that might be the words “NononononoSTOPno” or might just be indignant shrieking.

 

There's a flurry of limbs charging down the platform.

 

And then there's a head stuck between the closing doors of the train.

 

That part Michael definitely gets straight away. There's a head. There's a _goddamn_ head and a flailing arm stuck between the doors of a train that's practically in motion. And it has to be the fucking doors right in front of him, sure, because Michael has to see a guy get decapitated right in front of him when he's about to audition for his dream job. Why the hell not?

 

So what follows is Michael tugging on the flailing arm, which in turn is waving a pocket video camera practically in his face. Like some Christopher Robin pulling Winnie the Pooh out a fucking honey pot bullshit, Michael tugs and tugs with all his might. Just as the train's about to cut its losses and just fucking go already, the guy gets pulled inside the train, Michael gets an eye-full of camera and the pair land on their asses. Everyone else with any goddamn sense decided to clear out of the way seconds ago.

 

Head And Arm is the first to speak, obviously winded and apparently a little awed at Michael's quick thinking.

 

“Bloody hell,” and it's amazing how goddamn British one guy can be in three syllables, “I nearly got my body chopped off.”

 

Head And Arm is, Michael registers, about ninety percent nose and ten percent face. Weirdly, with the dozy grin, it kind of works for the guy.

 

“Don't you mean you nearly got your head chopped off?” Michael finds himself asking because, yeah, that's the important thing here.

 

“No, I mean body, because I'd still be in my head, it was the body getting left behind,” and with that feat of intellectual reasoning, Michael decides the guy's an asshole. That and the fact that his eye is already starting to swell shut. Nose notices that with a cringe, “Sorry about your eye. I really twatted you one eh?”

 

If Michael had any idea what that even meant, he might agree. Nose doesn't wait for Michael to offer a reply though and rambles on.

 

“It's just I was filming,” the camera gets an explanatory waggle, “Doing a little thing about how exciting my life is and what I get up to and I must have spent too long filming the train and-” Nose looks down at the camera, eyes wide with apparent revelation, “I hope it got me getting stuck and you getting twatted, that footage could be mint.”

 

Michael, by this time, is just staring at the guy, expression glazed. The words wash over him and he just waits for the guy to take a breath so he can nod once and offer a, “Whatever, it's okay, don't mention it.”

 

And that would be the end of it, except that it's not, of course it isn't. Lindsay and her talk about getting his goddamn organs harvested has jinxed him. Sure enough, once Michael's further along the carriage and sat in one of an empty pair of seats, the second is taken by none other than-

 

“Oh, my name's Gavin by the way.”

 

Michael's never met a guy more Gavin-looking in his life. He shakes the proffered hand dubiously like any second he's going to wake up from the weirdest, most irritating dream he's ever had.

 

“Geoff,” Michael offers and he's not even sure why he says it. It's not like the guy – not like Gavin - can steal his goddamn identity from his name but whatever, it's done.

 

“Geoff, lovely to meet you Geoff. Sorry about naffing your eye up.”

 

“Really, it's okay, forget it.”

 

Gavin does, for all of five seconds and then the babble starts up once again. Michael alternates between subtly checking his phone, looking out the window and glancing across at Gavin who, it seems, isn't the least perturbed by Michael's less than enthusiastic attention. There's something about “Yids” (whatever those are), “arsing around”, slow motion cinematography (and okay, that part is kind of interesting) and some more stuff about filming Gavin's amazing, exciting life.

 

The pause at the end of it all is kind of alarming and Michael's alerted to the possibility that this is now his time to share. It would be easier if it weren't for the teeny camera that managed to beat the shit out of him being pushed into his face and hey, maybe this is heading towards a porno, some small part of his brain offers him.

 

“This is Geoff, say hello Geoff.”

 

“Hey,” Michael all but grimaces at the camera.

 

“So what're you up to Geoff? Anything exciting?”

 

Michael would like to think that getting brained by a camera is the reason he lets the truth slip. The reality of the situation is probably more along the lines of how equally nervous, nauseated and fucking excited he is about the whole thing. So, like an overly excited dam, he just bursts and lets it all out.

 

He does his best to explain what Roosterteeth is. Past experience has told Michael that the name confuses most people and it only gets harder from there but, whatever, he gives it a shot. He even gives explaining Rage Quits a go but short of acting one out, he can't really capture it. Gavin's all for filming him Rage Quitting but Michael doesn't want to get kicked off the train for obscenity or to traumatize any small children. By the time they're pulling into his interchange station, Gavin's mostly getting it, if his oddly amused but mostly impressed expression is anything to go by.

 

“Hey, look, this is me so I better head but it was-” Michael can't bring himself to say nice, good or anything approaching either, “Interesting. Have a safe journey.”

 

“I'm getting off here as well,” Gavin grins. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. Michael walks onto the platform alongside the guy at a shuffle, “Sorry about your eye again. I've bashed my head a few times,” Michael can't even bring himself to act surprised, “And black eyes go pretty quickly so you should be alright.”

 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Michael dismisses. There's an awkward exchange of half smiles and then Michael counts Mississippis, letting Gavin get lost in the crowd on the platform before he makes his way to his second train. Once he's sat down in a carriage that is British guy free, with no more injuries for his troubles, Michael stretches out and fires off a text message to Lindsay.

 

_Train ride from hell. Where do I sign to sell my goddamn kidney instead?_


End file.
